


So you can play my game

by TaleWeaver



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Jon is a horny bastard, Manipulative Sansa Stark, Modern Era, Salty Teens, Sansa likes to play games, Semi-Public Sex, people watching for fun and orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Taking the train home from school, Jon runs into the gorgeous fellow passenger he's been fantasizing about for awhile.  When they start chatting, their common interest in people-watching leads to a game with increasingly higher - and hornier - stakes.





	So you can play my game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junsnow/gifts).



> _Dedicated to junsnow, because re-reading 'You're in my veins (and I cannot get you out)' left me with the urge to write smut myself (yes, it took me awhile to finish this. Whatever) and beg for updates. Following her example, this was inspired by a real hentai (thus the unsafe sex. I'm sure everyone reading this knows better IRL)._
> 
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> EXPOSITION NOTES: For the train route, I leaned heavily on the King's Landing entry on awoiaf.westeros.org; I turned 'the Street of Flour', which has a lot of bakeries, into 'Baker Street' because I'm both a Sherlock Holmes and Detective Conan fan and I CAN, so there.  
> In this AU, the Snows are an old Queenscrown family, and Lyanna still lives there. Jon was publically claimed and legitimized by Rhaegar, a high-ranking nobleman, just before he started high school. Lyanna refused to move to King's Landing with Jon because she thinks it's a cesspool, and Jon refused to live with the Targaryens because he thinks most of them are insane (he's not entirely wrong). Therefore Jon lives alone in a studio apartment in the now-hipster suburb of Flea Bottom, now officially called Eastpit, which is a fairly common arrangement for students at the really sought-after schools in KL like my fictional Baelor Academy (near Fishmonger Square) and Queen's Conservatory (a boarding school on River Row), who come from outside the Crownlands to study there.  
> Oh, and The Night's Watch is a well-known hard rock band with Orchestral and Goth leanings. Think Nightwish.  
> I recommend listening to 'Play my game' by The Donnas at least once while reading.

Jon Snow Targaryen grimaced and tried to hold his breath as he squeezed, squished and occasionally shimmied his way through the crowded train carriage.  When he'd first got on the train, just down the road from Baelor Academy, the carriage had been mostly clear.  At the last stop, though, so many people had piled on that the walls of the carriage seemed to bulge.

Even as he moved through a cloud of three mixed aftershaves and fought the urge to sneeze violently, he kept an eye out for a flash of red hair and the grey, white and black plaid of a Queen's Conservatory uniform.  But his favourite passenger on the mid-afternoon Three Hills train - otherwise known as the schoolie run - was nowhere to be seen.

As a bastard, even a noble one, you learned early to pay attention to what went on around you.  Once he'd been legitimized and brought to live in King's Landing he found that his habit of instinctive people-watching continued to be very useful.  But on the schoolie run, which for some reason had a bunch of weird characters as regulars, it was just for fun.  

A bit more than fun, where that gorgeous Queenie was concerned.  Jon felt no shame in admitting that from the very first time he'd seen her, fantasies of the elegant redheaded girl had been on high rotation.

Jon all but tumbled out of the door that led to the small compartment between cars, walled in accordion fashion to accommodate bends.  It was technically off-limits to passengers, but-

Jon's thoughts ground to a halt.  Then started running at high speed.

"Hello.  Fancy seeing you here," remarked the star of most of his recent sexual fantasies.

"H-hi," Jon gasped.  "So... you couldn't take the crowd either?"

"I like riding here," she replied, tilting her head to the side, and sending her waist-length copper braid swinging against her white blouse.  "You often get a better view."

_The next station is Steel Street.  Steel Street._

She turned to peer through the window in the door that led to the next carriage. For lack of anything better to say, Jon moved to stand beside her and watched the flow of passengers in and out of the carriage.

Once the train started to pick up speed, Jon ventured, "Looks like this carriage has emptied quite a bit.  Want to go in?"

The girl shook her head.  "I'm fine here."

Desperately racking his brain for something to say, Jon's eye lit on one of the odder regulars on the train.  "Oh, it's that guy again."

"Hmm?"

It was an interested-sounding 'Hmmm', so Jon went on.  "That guy over on the left, holding onto the handles, with the big nose and the blue suit?  He always stands next to a woman in a business suit, even if there's seats available.  I think he's one of those weird fetish types."

The woman standing next to him released the overhead handle, and moved to an empty seat.

"See, here he goes-"

The man in the blue suit surreptitiously stepped to his right, and grasped the handle in the exact same place the woman had, then sniffed the air deeply.

"I can't figure out if he has a thing for indirect hand-holding, or women's perfume."

"I think it's both," the girl giggled softly.

He'd made her laugh!  His father had once told Jon that one of the most important skills a man should learn was making a woman laugh.  It was one of the few things he'd said that Jon absolutely agreed with.

She tilted her head again, and gave him a long look.  "You're always looking, aren't you?"

Jon blushed.  Did she think that he spent all his time on the train watching perverts?  "Um, not really-"

"That's not what I meant. I was talking about me."

Oh, crap.

Then her serene expression became a slanted, mischievous smirk that made Jon's cock twitch.  "Want to play a game?"

Jon nodded hastily.

"There are two men in their mid-twenties who always get on together at Baelor's Sept, always in the last entrance to the second carriage."

"Oh, I know!" Jon thought furiously to recall the exact details.  "The black-haired man who only wears stormy grey and acts like he's in a shampoo commercial, and the curly blonde who always wears a Highgarden gold rosebud in his lapel."

"Right.  Let's guess who gets on first.  I'll take the brunette."

"I'll take the blonde, then," Jon said.

"Let's see."

_This is Baelor's Sept.  Baelor's Sept._

When the train sighed it's way into the station, Jon eagerly watched several passengers walk into the next car.  He sucked in his breath sharply as he saw the two men through the open doorway... and the dark-haired was slightly ahead.  He bit back a groan.

Then - the dark-haired man paused, laughed, and gestured for his blonde companion to enter first.

"Yes!" Jon hissed, doing a subtle fist-pump.

He turned to the redheaded girl, and his smile died away.

She was looking at him assessingly.  

Despite his introverted personality and difficulty approaching girls, Jon didn't often have trouble finding company of the female persuasion when he wanted it.  Partly it was because he resembled both his ridiculously good-looking parents, partly because he had no ego issues with assertive or even aggressive girls, and mostly because when he did have a girl around, he paid close attention to her and what she wanted.  So even though he was considered a loser dork by the majority of the male population of Baelor Academy, he actually had far more experience in the back-and-forth of mating games than most of them.

So Jon knew he was **not** imagining that this girl was looking at him as if she was wondering what he looked like naked.

Jon took a deep, slow breath; he could feel it stirring to life, swirling within him, threatening to rise.  

The Dragon.

When his asshole Uncle Viserys talked about 'rousing the dragon', he meant he was about to throw a temper tantrum and try to physically hurt someone.  When his sweet but occasionally-psycho Aunt Daenerys talked about 'rousing the dragon', she meant that someone wasn't worshipping her in the manner to which she felt entitled, and she was about to set something on fire.

When Jon let the words 'rousing the dragon' cross his mind, he always meant his libido.  He could calmly go for months without sex - but once he was fully aroused by a partner, he was insatiable until he was physically exhausted.  

After his ex Ygritte had not only goaded him into break-up sex but made him completely lose his temper, when he'd left her place and walked out into the quiet space before dawn, he'd left her sprawled in her bed, every limb trembling so badly she couldn't move, and his cum leaking from every hole in her body his cock could fit into.

So Jon licked his lips and waited, telling the dragon that this was not the time, they were on **public transport** for fuck's sake-

"Wha - what are you doing?" Jon hissed.

"It's your prize for winning, obviously," the red-head murmured, still giving him that smirk as she unzipped his fly.  "Anyway, you're already half-hard," she pointed out, as she pulled his dick out of his trousers.  After a few gentle strokes, she added, "You have quite a big cock, don't you?"

"Um, thanks," Jon groaned.  "Is that a good thing for you?"

"Definitely," she replied, and her slender fingers tightened around his shaft as her strokes sped up.

"I'm Jon, by the way," he moaned, thinking it was just plain rude not to give his name to the girl who currently had her hands on his cock.  "And it's been awhile, so I think I'm gonna come really soon."

"Sansa.  Come whenever you like."

With official permission, Jon sagged back against the wall of the carriage and relaxed into Sansa's skillful touch.

"Not yet," he muttered.  "I'm really enjoying this."

"Glad to hear it," she replied.

Sansa's nails, quite short and painted rose-red, trailed delicately along the length of his shaft, and Jon shoved his wrist into his mouth, biting down hard on layers of blazer and shirt, to muffle his groan as his hips bucked wildly.  A minute or so of pleasurable torment later, one hand reached into his fly to gently scoop his balls out of his boxer briefs, rolling them in her soft palm.  Jon groaned her name in warning, and just a few seconds later was filling the handkerchief that had suddenly swathed the head of his cock.

Jon gasped for breath as his cock gave a few last twitches, and he locked his knees to keep from sliding down the wall.  A few seconds passed in a daze as he watched Sansa neatly ball up the handkerchief, embroidered with Northern blue roses, and crouch down to tuck it away in the water-bottle pocket of a messenger bag.  He hadn't even noticed it was on the floor where Sansa had first been standing.  He was slipping.

_The next station is Guildhall.  Guildhall._

"Are you quite recovered yet?" Sansa enquired politely.  "Because it's time to get your head back in the game."

Jon fumbled his private parts back into his boxers, but didn't bother to zip his gaping fly.  "Almost there."

"Second round, then.  That woman who moved away from Big-Nose always gets off at Guildhall.  Which of our two contestants will take her seat?"

Jon pushed himself off the wall of the carriage to peer into the window, and offered, "I'll take the brunette, this time.  Seems only fair."

As the train lurched to a halt, the lady in the burgundy skirt suit stood up and moved to the doors.  Guildhall was one of the three main stations - ten of the fifteen lines went through here - so the wave of passengers leaving mingled with an even bigger wave of passengers boarding.  When the train lurched off and everyone was settled, both the men under discussion were sitting down... but the seat in contention had a man with black hair sitting in it.

"Too bad," Sansa smirked, leaning on her shoulder against the wall.  "You should have stuck with the blonde."

"Oh well," Jon shrugged.  "Guess that makes it your turn."

Taking a step forward, he went to one knee at Sansa's feet, and reached underneath her skirt.  Sansa gasped, but Jon was too intent on his prize.  As he gently drew down her underwear, Jon silently gloated over discovering his dream girl wore lace-trimmed silk panties, in a fetching shade of indigo blue.  He really wanted to find out if the bra matched; she seemed like the type. He carefully grasped each ankle in turn, lifting and guiding her feet in their elegant black T-strap shoes through the holes, so the damp panties wouldn't come in contact with the dirty floor. As he stuffed them into his blazer pocket, he looked up at Sansa's face, and she smiled down at him as she shifted her body so her back was flat against the wall.

Jon grinned up at her, and ducked his head underneath her knee-length pleated skirt.

First, he rested his cheek on her thigh, and gently used his fingertips to check how damp she was.  To his delight, she was nicely wet between her folds, and so was the opening of her cunt.  He'd lucked into finding a girl who was turned on by giving **and** receiving, just like him.  Jon promptly dove right in, enthusiastically licking at all the crevices and folds of her pussy.  He quickly found her nub, which was nice and hard, and focused his tongue on that until her stance wobbled.  He reached outside her skirt with one hand, placing it on her hip to help steady her, and used the other to gently probe inside her cunt with one, then two fingers. 

Judging by the sounds she was making, Sansa was enjoying it, and if he made her come soon, they'd have time for one more round before his stop, as well as swapping phone numbers if she agreed.

He slid his fingers deeper inside, then curled his fingertips as he stroked downwards.  He'd always been quite good at finding the right spot...   Sansa's cunt spasmed and tightened around his fingers, and she let out a moan that made Jon rather glad he was already on his knees.

As he climbed to his feet, he was thankful he hadn't managed to zip up between rounds, because his cock was already iron hard again, and throbbing so much that confining it behind his fly would be downright painful.

"New round?" he panted, as he wiped his wet fingers on his pants.

Sansa nodded slowly, "Mmm-hmm.  You win this round," she raised her skirt to display her drenched pussy and inner thighs, "you can come inside me as much as you like."

"What's the game?" Jon asked, his gaze locked to the view between Sansa's thighs.

Sansa dropped her skirt, and giggled as Jon pouted.  "Eyes on the carriage, Jon."  

Jon dragged his gaze to the window.

"Let's keep it simple.  The next station is Baker Street.  Will our two contestants get off or not?"

Jon tried to remember when the two men normally left the train, but his mind was blurred by the tartly sweet taste on his lips and his throbbing cock.  "Fuck it," he decided.  "I say they will."

Sansa settled back against the wall in her former position.

"Aren't you going to look?" Jon asked in bewilderment.

Sansa shrugged.  "I trust your word."

_The next station is Baker Street.  Baker Street._

The train pulled in, and the passengers spilled out.  Jon watched the crowd with bated breath.

As the train pulled out of the station, he turned to Sansa and grinned as he reached down to free his cock.

"All gone."

Sansa grinned back, and Jon wondered if his grin had become as feral as hers.  She widened her legs slightly, and lifted one foot to brace flat against the train wall.  Jon moved at the same time, and lifted her skirt up high with both hands.  He caressed her arse gently, even as he notched his hips into the space between her thighs.  He rubbed his aching erection against the soaking  folds of her pussy, coating himself in her moisture, then reached down with one hand to grip his cock and rub the tip against her nub, once, then twice, and Sansa hissed.

"Put it in already!" she ordered.

Jon instantly obeyed, easily finding her entrance.  She was tighter than he expected, but she was very wet, so he kept pushing in one glorious slide until his pelvis was pressed to hers.

They let out matching sighs of satisfaction, and Jon moved his left hand back to her arse.  

"Don't hold back," Sansa ordered breathlessly.

Jon groaned, and pulled out just enough to thrust back hard.  Sansa's nails dug into his shoulders, and her hips bucked against his as he pounded into her welcoming depths.  Jon used his grip on her arse to angle her hips so he could hit the place inside that had triggered her peak before, and knew he'd succeeded when Sansa gasped and her inner muscles fluttered around him.  Then the rocking of the train made Jon's next strokes stutter inside her, and she clamped down on his cock as she came.  

Jon buried his face in her shoulder and groaned, and managed to pull out barely in time.  He tried to take himself in hand again, but his climax was already erupting.  His seed splattered against the train wall in thick spurts, random droplets spraying over the back and inside of Sansa's thighs, his other hand barely keeping her skirt up high enough to avoid the blowback.

"Seven Hells," he groaned as he slowly pushed his body away, his head swimming.  "That was incredible."

"Yes," Sansa panted, "It was."

Jon smiled.  "What are the chances of me getting your number?"

Sansa smiled back.  "Let's see..."  

She pushed off the wall and moved past him to stand in the center of the compartment.  Then Sansa looked deeply in his eyes, and her lips formed the mischievous smirk that had started all this once more, now with a gleam of Fifth-Hell devilment dancing in her eyes.

"Final round.  If I screamed right now, which carriage do you think people would come out of first?"

Jon gaped at her, his mind whirling with the possible consequences of being found here with his pants open and his cum dripping down the wall.

Sansa smirked, and Jon lunged for her.  His dick bounced around in the open air, but his hand landed over her mouth.  "Um, I haven't had a chance to look into the carriages since the last station.  It's only fair I get the chance to assess the situation."

He cast a quick glance to his left and right, looking into the carriages through the windows, even as he fumbled with his cock, trying to stuff his still half-hard organ back into his gaping fly.  Carriage three had more people in it, but all the passengers he could see were teenagers and a few college-agers who all had headphones in or were completely absorbed in their phones.

Sansa stepped out of reach, and told him, "If you win, I'll tell them I just saw a **huge** spider."  

Then she screamed like an cheerleader in a slasher movie.

Her eyes were glowing, her face flushed as she goaded him, "Well?  Which one?"

Jon raised his arm and pointed at his choice, even as he snapped back, "I win, you come home with me."

   ****

Sansa stood on the train platform, listening to a pair of teenage girls chat behind her while she basked in the early morning sunshine.

"Did you hear?  They arrested a pervert on the schoolie run yesterday!"

"Typical, they always come out for the Queenies.  Dirty old men!"

"No, this guy was really young - high school age, I heard."

"Wow."

Sansa unzipped her messenger bag's front pocket, and rummaged through it for a cough drop.  Having stowed her uniform knee-high socks and blouse safely in her bag, she now wore her T-strap, square heeled shoes with a pair of black anklets with lace trim.  Teamed with her uniform pleated skirt (rolled at the waistband to shorten it several inches), it gave off a vaguely Goth aesthetic.  The black, white and grey plaid of the skirt went quite nicely with the Night's Watch T-shirt she'd won from Jon last night.  

The silly boy had sworn that he would never get less than an eighty percent score on any song in _Rock Band_ , no matter the difficulty.  But when Sansa sucked his cock he could barely break fifty percent, even on Easy level!  He'd tried to win back the shirt over _Aegon's Conquest_ , but once Sansa had taken the Riverlands, he hadn't stood a chance.  She'd agreed to withdraw her troops to the Twins after he'd buried his face between her legs and licked her to a screaming orgasm, but she'd still taken all of Westeros in less than an hour.  After that, Jon had yanked the power cord out of the wall, swept her up in his arms like a princess, and carried her off to bed.

The train rattled into the station, and Sansa climbed into the carriage and grasped a pole to keep herself steady.  While her scratchy throat was feeling better from the cough drop - she really had done quite a bit of screaming - Sansa thought it might be a good idea to avoid hard seats for a little while longer, given how thoroughly her quim had been used in the past twelve or so hours.  She wanted to be in top shape for the date she had planned with Jon tonight.

As the train set off again, her gaze swept over her fellow passengers.

Sansa had always closely observed the people around her.

**Author's Note:**

> PS in case anyone was wondering, it was Joffrey that got arrested. Mwahaha!


End file.
